Home Life
by YoukaiNemisis
Summary: Supernatural AU. Castiel has always been the good son; obedient and quiet. Until he started dating Dean Winchester; now he realises that there is something wrong with his life. Destiel fic; m/m action; rape
1. Chapter 1

Castiel closes his bedroom door and leans against it, forcing himself to breathe, just breathe, as he licks blood from his split lip. _Fucking Michael_, he thinks, then automatically winces at the profanity. It'd been a good day up until a few hours ago. It was Saturday; he'd got his chores done early, finished his school work and his bible study, then made himself a great lunch and retired to the back garden to eat. He'd dozed off under the maple that spread its limbs across what he liked to call _his_ corner of the garden – since Gabriel had moved out (_run away_) and no longer lurked in the branches making sarcastic (_and funny_) comments about the rest of the family, that corner was quiet and safe. Anna had woken him at midafternoon and pulled him inside to help with dinner; Castiel had obliged. They'd gotten into a rhythm, working together in a way he wasn't really able to with the rest of the family.

Dinner was in the oven and he and Anna were snickering over her laptop when Michael had come home from his shift. Dad had picked him up; given everyone a cursory greeting then placed himself in front of the television. Michael had taken one look at the kitchen and demanded to know why there were dishes still in the sink. Anna hadn't said anything, she'd simply gotten to her feet and started to wash up. Cas helped; but he couldn't help the dark look he'd directed at Michael. That was when the day started to go down hill, fast. It started with little comments, mocking words that cut, and by the time dinner was on the table, Castiel was ready to explode. But he'd bitten his tongue, until Michael began to criticise Anna's cooking. Dad hadn't said anything, just poured himself another drink, holding himself behind that invisible wall he was _so_ good at putting up between himself and his children. Cas was forced to watch Anna shrink further and further into herself at every hateful, hurtful word, until he just couldn't take it any more.

"What is your problem, Michael?" he'd demanded. "You walk in the door to dinner on the table and you can't do anything but pick at Anna for making it?" He'd heard Zachariah draw in a breath, and felt Raphael stare at him in amazement. Castiel was the _good_ boy; the calm, reliable, dependable one. "It's rude, and it's unfair. You need to stop it." Michael had given him that look, the one that said Cas was a bug, far beneath his notice.

"What did you just say to me?" the eldest brother had replied, his voice cold and dangerous.

"I said you need to stop. Anna doesn't deserve it." Cas twitched when Anna kicked him in the ankle, and he'd looked over to see her shaking her head, mouthing the word _no_. His attention had swung back to Michael when he'd slammed his knife and fork down on the table.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that," Michael had warned, but Castiel had suffered enough.

"Why not? You're a brute, and a bully, and you're not the boss of me, of any of us." Michael had risen from his seat, and from less than a foot away Cas could see his hands were trembling and his face was filled with rage.

"Get out. Get away from this table, right now, or so help me..." Castiel had turned in appeal to their father, only to see that Dad had also risen and was walking away, back to the den and the television. "Get out!" Michael had repeated in a snarl.

"Gladly," Castiel had managed in reply. "I'd rather be alone right now than look at your stupid face for another second." He'd gotten to his feet and stalked around the table, head held high under the scrutiny of his family. He'd not seen the fist coming, hadn't be able to block it or move with it, and found himself on the floor, looking up at Michael with stars dancing in his vision.

"Don't you ever mouth off to me again, you got that?" Michael had demanded, then turned away, leaving Cas to scramble to his feet, wiping blood off his mouth and swallowing the urge to start swinging, even if it left him beaten to a pulp. He'd run up to his room, and now here he was, hiding from his eldest brother while his lip started to swell.

Castiel crossed the room to his desk and rummaged in the back of the drawer, coming up with the cell phone Michael had forbidden in the house. Fingers flying, he typed a message.

_I need you to come get me. Now. Please._

It was gratifying how fast he received a response.

_10 minutes. Usual spot._

He grabbed his favourite coat from the closet and crossed to the window, pulling it up and pushing the screen out of the way. It was a simple matter to climb out and walk carefully along the roof to the edge, then lower himself to his belly and hang his body out and over into space. Cas' toes hooked in the trellis that hugged the side of the house, and it was a matter of seconds before he was on the ground and walking away.

Two streets over, and he could already hear the low rumble he'd come to love. Dean Winchester guided the Impala to a stop, then leaned across the bench seat and opened the door. Cas slid inside and yanked the door shut. Dean clicked on the light and cupped Castiel's face in his calloused hands, turning him so he could see his swollen lip.

"Cas, what happened to your face?!"

"Dean, please... Just... Just get me away from here."

"Sure, Cas, whatever you want." Dean was silent as he put the Impala in gear. They were quiet for a moment, but when Dean spoke again it gave Castiel an unexpected feeling of warmth. "But one day I'm going to kill that son of a bitch. You've got my guarantee on that."


	2. Chapter 2

Dean drives Castiel to the junk yard where he works, Singer Salvage Yard. Cas knows it's run by Bobby Singer, who, aside from being Dean's boss and landlord, is also an honorary uncle to Dean and his younger brother. Dean's dad, John, is probably out of town at the moment, meaning that Dean has simply packed Sam up and brought him round to Uncle Bobby's so Dean can keep an eye on him while their dad is away. A wistful smile makes Cas wince as the split in his lower lip throbs; he'd give anything to have a brother who looks after him like Dean looks after Sam.

Dean parks the Impala beside the ramshackle house, gets out, and waits until Castiel joins him. "C'mon," he says gruffly, opening the door. "You'll need ice." Cas shuffles his feet, but the unyielding expression on Dean's face makes him square his shoulders and mount the steps. He follows Dean's example of wiping his feet and hanging his coat on the wall pegs. Something smells great, and there's a radio playing somewhere as they move from the hallway to the kitchen. A boy with tousled hair and the same hazel eyes as Dean is setting the table; he looks up in surprise and starts to smile, which quickly turns to a frown. Cas watches Sam fight with his curiosity, before he swallows and the smile comes back, this time a little sad.

"Hey, Castiel. How... How are you?"

"I'm fine, Sam. How's school?" That's all it takes to send Sam off, rhapsodising about this and that that he's learned over the past week, talking a mile a minute while Dean moves to the refrigerator and rummages in the freezer. Even though he's fourteen, Sam always seems younger – and he acts like it most of the time. Somehow, Cas finds himself seated at the table as Sam fills a plate with spaghetti and sauce and places it in front of him, while Dean is pressing a small plastic bag with a few ice cubes in it into his hand. Castiel lifts it to his mouth as he fights down the absurd urge to cry. In the space of a few minutes, he feels more at home, more a part of a _family_, that he ever does in the house he lives in.

"Hey, where's mine?" The voice of Bobby Singer interrupts Sam's dissertation on the properties of electrons, and Cas looks across to see the older man standing in the doorway to the living room, cap on head as always. "Well, if it ain't my favourite stray. Cas, how you been?" Cas lowers the ice bag.

"Fine, sir," he replies, shyly. Ever since he first met Mr. Singer, he's been in awe of the man, and his ability to put anyone in their place with a single look. Bobby Singer had opened his home to Cas from the minute Dean had first brought him through the door, had made sure Castiel knew he always had a place to go. Within these walls he feels _safe_. Bobby looks at his face, and his eyes narrow.

"That lip don't look fine, boy."

"I... Uh... It was an accident." Bobby snorts as he crosses the kitchen and gets a beer from the fridge.

"Like the black eye last week? And the sprained wrist the week before _that_? You're one unlucky son of a bitch, Castiel." Bobby sits down at the table and pops open his drink. "I've a mind to go have a word with your Daddy. Or the cops."

"No!" For a moment Cas is drowning in panic. "No, no, I... It's okay. I'm fine, really." Bobby Singer takes a long drink, and pins Cas with an even longer look. That gaze slides to Dean, who shrugs as he takes his own seat. Sam is looking around the table, confusion all over his face. "I'm fine," Castiel repeats, weakly. Bobby shakes his head, his eyes sad.

"If you say so, boy. Pass the bread, Sam." Dinner is filled with easy conversation, and Cas even manages to finish his food. He comes to a realisation when Sam is pulling a pie from the oven for dessert. He has to stop coming to Bobby's when he's hurt – the old man would make good on his threat to go to the police, and then where would Anna be? She'd never say a word against Michael, and when the cops were gone... Castiel hides a shudder, but obviously not well enough, as Dean covers his hand with one of his own and speaks under Sam and Bobby's conversation.

"You okay?" Cas squeezes Dean's hand and manages a smile.

"Yeah. I am now."

"You gonna bunk over tonight?" Bobby asks Cas. "You'll have to make up the bed."

"Thank you, sir, but no. I've got church in the morning." Sam muffles a laugh as he cuts into the pie, and when the older man turns his head Cas is grateful Bobby Singer has never looked at _him_ like that.

"You got something to say?"

"Well, uh..." Sam swallows, then his shoulders go straight. "Why do you go to church, Cas? Aren't you going to hell anyways?" He gestures to Dean. "You know, for doing Dean." Dean's mouth drops open, but before he can say anything, Bobby speaks up.

"Samuel Winchester." Sam cringes. "Cas' relationship with God is his own damn affair. God ain't the sex police." Cas could swear that Bobby just _winked_ at him. Bobby gets up and grabs a plate of pie and a spoon before slouching towards the living room. "I don't want to ever hear anything like that come out of your mouth again. You hearin' me?"

"Yes, sir," Sam whispers, head hanging low.

"Good. Now I know you got homework. Get to it."

"Yes, sir." Sam stops halfway out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Cas, it was just a joke," he says, before vanishing up the stairs.

"My brother's an idiot," Dean growls as he fetches dessert and places plate and spoon in front of Castiel. "Here, eat." Cas smiles, a genuine smile this time.

"That's okay, you've met mine."

"Yeah, I have," Dean says before he scoops up a mouthful of pie. "What are we going to do about him, Cas?" Cas flushes and toys with his spoon.

"What do you mean?" Dean pins him with a gaze that's almost as intense as Bobby's.

"You know what I mean." Dean runs his free hand through his hair, an expression of frustration on his face. "He beats on you, man. You should go to the cops." Cas shakes his head. "Why not?" Dean demands.

"It'd be my word against his," Cas argues. "And when the cops are gone, what'll happen then? He'll _kill_ me, Dean." Dean grabs his hand again and holds it, almost too tightly.

"Come and live here, with me. I'll make sure you're safe."

"I'm seventeen. I can't leave home yet. And Anna... I don't know what he'd do to her if I wasn't there." Dean's hazel eyes narrow.

"What?" When Cas hangs his head again, Dean releases his hand and cups his chin instead, lifting his face. "Has he hurt her, too?"

"No. I make sure he never touches her."

"You mean, you take the beatings so she won't have to."

"Yeah," Cas replies, looking away, and prays silently, _don't let him see, please, God, don't let him find out..._

"Oh, Cas," Dean sighs, and those calloused fingers are gentle as they trace across his cheek. "This is one seriously fucked up situation, you know that?" That earns him a slightly watery laugh.

"Yeah," Cas repeats. He looks down at his plate, then shakes his head. "Suddenly I'm not very hungry. Can you take me home, Dean?" Dean smiles that familiar, wry smile.

"No. But I can take you back to where you live." Castiel lips quiver, but he manages to smile in return.

"That'll have to do, then." Cas makes his goodbyes to Bobby, who repeats the familiar command that Castiel is to come back, and soon. He calls a farewell to Sam, who appears at the top of the stairs to wave. Then he and Dean are back in the Impala, cruising nearly deserted streets. They stop where they always stop, and Dean reaches out to put a hand on Castiel's arm.

"I just wish I knew what to do, what to say, to make this better for you." Cas covers Dean's hand with his own.

"That's just about the best thing you _could_ say," he replies, smiling. Dean leans forward, and Cas matches the movement until their lips meet in a gentle, soft, chaste kiss. When they pull apart, Cas sighs. "I'd better go."

"Yeah. When will I see you again?" Cas shrugs in the darkness as he opens the door.

"As soon as I can manage."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's a promise. Night, Dean."

"See ya, Cas." Castiel steps out into the night at watches as the Impala pulls away. Slowly, he retraces his steps from hours ago, his legs feeling leaden, like they do every time he has to go back. It feels like it gets more difficult every time to climb the trellis and pull himself up onto the roof, but he manages it, just like he does every time. Cas climbs back in his window, being as quiet as he can as he fixes the screen back in place. He turns back to the room and almost jumps out of his skin as the light over his desk clicks on. Sitting in his chair is Michael, and across his thighs is a thick leather belt.

"Hello, Castiel. I think it's time we had another little talk."


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel sits, listening to the priest's voice droning on. "For God so love the world, that He gave His one begotten son..."

"_You will not leave this house again unless you have my expression permission, do you understand?" The leather of the belt bites into his back, and Cas clamps his teeth together to muffle a howl._

"... His son died for our sins, to cleanse us all..."

_Michael swings the belt again, and this time it slaps against Castiel's backside. "Your days of disobedience are done, do you hear me?" His brother's hand clamps down in Cas' black hair and throws him face down on the bed as Michael rages._

"... is the proof of God's love for each and every one of us..."

_The sound of cloth tearing, the rustle of Michael removing his pants, and oh God the _pain_ as he spreads Cas wide and works his dick inside, making Cas claw at the bed in a futile attempt to get away, but Michael is bigger and stronger in every way, and the result is the same as it always is._

"... God is a loving father..."

"_Clean yourself up," Michael says when he's finished. "You're disgusting." Cas slowly gets to his feet, holding the tattered remnants of his trousers to cover himself. "I am in charge here, do you understand me? You're _mine_, Castiel. _Always_." The door closes behind Michael, and Cas allows the tears of shame and anger he's been swallowing to slide down his face._

"... so remember this in your daily life. Amen." The congregations' voices mumble the word in response, and Castiel blinks, lifted from his reverie by the sound of people rising from their pews. He hurts, in body and in soul, but under that pain is anger, no, rage. How can Michael do this? How can God allow it? Is it because he loves Dean that he's being punished like this? But no, Michael beat him before he met Dean; he was twelve the first time Michael had... violated him. Dean... Dean is like a beam of sunlight, warm and soft and gentle, and a balm to Cas' battered soul. Castiel's mouth twitches as he imagines Dean's response if Cas ever told him that.

"What are you thinking about?" Anna asks, making Cas jump. "I haven't seen you smile like that in ages."

"Oh, nothing," Cas replies, rising to his feet.

"That was a really happy thought though, wasn't it?" she asks, all innocence and wide eyes.

"Yeah, sis, it was," he replies, and takes the hand she offers him, squeezing it tight, before he allows her to lead him from the church. As long as Anna is safe, Castiel will do what ever he must to keep her that way.


	4. Chapter 4

It's been a terrible two weeks. Castiel hasn't done anything to merit a beating from Michael; but he's under scrutiny all the same, and sometimes he feels like the weight of Michael's gaze will crush him. He's had to lie to Dean when he comes to pick up Sam after school; Cas tells him he has too much homework, and it's an excuse Dean seems to buy, for now at least. But by the second Friday Cas' heart hurts too much; the lies are too much for him and he can't bear it any more. So, after dinner, after Zach and Raphael and even Anna have left for parts unknown, he approaches their father in full view of Michael.

"Um, Dad?"

"What?" Father's eyes are glued to the television, much like his hand is glued around the tumbler of scotch in his grip.

"Can I go out and see some friends?" he asks, loudly enough for Michael to hear. Chuck Shirley is a surly drunk, and Michael may just be on the receiving end of the belt if he crosses their father's will.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," is the disinterested reply.

"Er, I might get asked to stay the night," Cas adds hastily. "May I?" His father shrugs.

"If you want."

"Thanks, Dad," Castiel says gratefully. His father shrugs again and keeps watching the TV. Cas scurries from the room and tears up the stairs and into his room. He shoves a change of clothes and his cell into his backpack, and grabs his coat, but his exit is blocked by Michael. The eldest son is standing in his doorway, arms crossed, a forbidding expression on his face.

"What did I tell you, Castiel?" Cas trembles for a moment, then straightens his shoulders.

"Are you going to stop me leaving? What will you tell Father?" Michael bares his teeth.

"Just remember that you're going to have to come home eventually. And I'll be waiting for you, you little shit." Triumph makes Castiel bold.

"May I go now? Or do I have to call Dad?" A second later, he's on the floor, clutching his stomach after the punch.

"Watch your mouth," Michael threatens. He draws his foot back, the swings it forward in a kick, but this time years of taking Michael's beatings allow Cas to roll with it to minimise the damage while looking like he's taken a heavy hit. "I'll see you when you get home, little brother." Michael walks off, and Cas climbs to his feet. Even the throbbing in his stomach can't compete with the glow of success that runs through him as he leaves his room and walks down the stairs.

"Bye, Dad," he calls as he opens the front door, not expecting a reply, and not receiving one, either. Then he is free, and he can't help the bounce in his step as he leaves the house in his wake. Two streets away he reaches for the cell phone, fingers dancing as he types.

_I'm free. Come and get me._

The answer is immediate.

_I'll be there as soon as I can._

Castiel throws back his head and smiles, staring at the stars. _It's a good night_, he thinks, then he corrects himself, the smile widening to a grin as he hears that familiar rumble. _No, it's a great night. _When the Impala growls to a halt he yanks the door wide and almost lunges inside. Dean starts to laugh a second before Cas grabs him and pulls him close. It was going to be a gentle kiss, but somehow it becomes a hungry, passionate thing, lips and tongues tangling. When they draw apart, they're both breathing heavily.

"Wow," says Dean, grinning. "So you missed me, then?" Cas cups Dean's face in his palms and kisses him again, managing to keep it gentle this time.

"I always miss you," he says when he pulls back. "Now get me out of here."

"Your wish is my command," Dean says grandly as he puts the car in gear. "Where to?"

"Anywhere." _As long as I'm with you_, Cas adds to himself as he gazes at Dean in the darkened car, and he can't keep the slightly foolish smile off his face. Dean glances across, and then down to the bag between Cas' feet.

"You're mine for the night?" he asks, delight clear in his voice.

"I'm yours," Castiel affirms. _Always._


	5. Chapter 5

They'd started the evening at the Dairy Queen, sitting on the hood of the Impala and eating a stupid amount of junk food. Then Cas and Dean had just started to drive; just drive, no destination in mind, cruising in the car with Dean's favourite tunes playing on the stereo, talking and laughing about everything in general and nothing in particular, their hands intertwined on the seat between them.

When they'd gone back to Dean's trailer at the auto yard, Dean had snuck inside and taken a six-pack from Bobby's fridge, and they were once again seated on the hood of the Impala, this time sipping beer and watching the stars. Well, Dean was sipping; Castiel had downed two cans and was working on his third.

"Hey, slow down," Dean chides jokingly. "We've got all night." Cas tilts his head, considering Dean while a slow smile curves his mouth. In a heartbeat he's on Dean, kissing those soft lips, hungry and desperate. Dean responds eagerly, hands sliding and groping as they slide off the Impala and stumble into the trailer. Cas pushes Dean back towards the bed that takes up the entire back section, first yanking off his own shirt, swiftly followed by Dean's. He presses his chest against his lovers' as they shared another slow, hot kiss, tongues tangling, before Cas kisses his way down Dean's jaw and neck, then licks a wet trail down Dean's chest as he falls to his knees ("_get on your knees and open your mouth, little brother"_).

Castiel's fingers find Dean's belt buckle and swiftly undo it, before pulling the leather from the loops (_oh god not the belt_) and tossing it over his shoulder while his fingers work on Dean's fly. He pulls Dean's hardening erection free of his pants (_no, Michael, please, I'll be good, I swear_) and licks it from base to tip before taking the head between his lips, closing his eyes as he does.

"Cas, stop." Dean's voice takes longer to penetrate the haze of alcohol than the sensation of Dean's hands on Cas' shoulders, pushing him back and holding him away.

"Huh?" Cas blinked. "What's wrong?" Dean stares at him, shock in his expression.

"You... You're crying." Castiel lifts one hand and touches his face, then looks in surprise at the moisture on his fingertips. "Cas, please, tell me, what's wrong?"

"N... Nothing." Cas reaches out again, but Dean keeps his grip and holds him back.

"Screw nothing. Tell me." Dean sits on the edge of the bed and tugs, pulling Cas up to sit beside him. Castiel opens and closes his mouth for a moment under the scrutiny of those clear hazel eyes. _Why do I feel like I'm breaking?_ he thinks. He opens his mouth to say 'nothing' again, and is shocked by the keening noise that escapes his lips. "Cas..?" The concern in that single word is his undoing; Cas begins to sob in earnest, turning away, covering his face with his hands as he cries.

He can't hear the Dean's words over the storm of his own sobbing; but somehow he's pulled back onto the bed, his face pillowed on Dean's chest as he wails and whimpers. Those strong hands stroke his back in gentle sweeps, and as his tears slow, he can finally make sense of what Dean is saying. "It's okay, Cas, I'm here, you're safe, I promise, you're safe here with me."

It feels like an age until the tears are done, and when they've finally stopped, Cas stays where he is, soothed and comforted by the slow stroking of those calloused hands across his back. He feels hollow and exhausted, and his throat is raw from his sobs.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," he whispers finally. "I... don't know what..."

"Shhh," Dean replies. "It's okay. Just tell me, please, what's wrong?" Cas stays silent. "Don't you trust me?" Dean asks.

"I trust you," Cas says softly, feeling Dean's heart beating beneath his cheek.

"Then talk to me, man. Whatever this is, it's eatin' you alive. Let me help. _Please_." Cas opens and closes his mouth a few times, but the words don't want to come, until he looks up and sees those hazel eyes so full of compassion and warmth. He lowers his gaze and starts to talk, the words broken and stammering, falling from his lips in a shower of pain and sorrow. He tells Dean about Michael, about what Michael has done to him, all of it. When he finally runs out of words, he realises that the soothing hand has stopped, and Cas looks up, his heart jolting in his chest at the look in Dean's eyes. Rage and disgust mingle in that stare, and Cas has to close his eyes for a moment before he pushes himself up and off the bed, shoulders hunching as he reaches for his shirt.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Dean demands.

"You... I... I'll just... go."

"Stop. Just fucking stop." Cas keeps his face turned away as he holds his shirt to his chest. "_Castiel_. Look at me." Hearing his full name in that tone makes him look to see Dean kneeling on the bed, hands outstretched.

"You're angry with me. You're disgusted by me, by what I've done." Castiel whispers, feeling more tears creep from beneath his lids. "It would be better if I left." In a heartbeat Dean is up and off the bed, standing between Cas and the door.

"Jesus, Cas, just listen to me! I'm not angry with _you_. I'm not disgusted by _you_." Dean reaches out and grabs Castiel and gives him a shake before he pulls him into a tight, hard hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he presses his cheek to the top of Cas' head. "You idiot." Dean kisses Cas' hair, and Castiel can't help his arms creeping around Dean's lean waist. "None of it is your fault. _None of it_, you hear me?" His calloused hands begin their soothing stroking again, and for some reason Cas is crying again. Dean coaxes him back to the bed, and again Castiel finds his cheek resting against Dean's chest as more tears fall. Eventually, these slow and finally stop too, and for a long, long while they just lay there in silence, Dean continuing to pet him.

"I never knew," Dean says finally. "I don't know how you can stand to let me touch you after..." Cas lifts his head enough to shake it.

"But you don't hurt me. You make me feel wonderful, Dean. I..." He lets out his breath in a sigh. "I love what we do together. It makes me feel special. It makes me feel safe." Cas sighs again. "It makes me feel loved, that someone like you could want something like me."

"Some_thing_?" Dean makes a noise that is somewhere between affection and annoyance. "That's screwed up. You're not a thing, Cas. You're a person. And I..." Dean stops, and the tension in his body makes Cas look up to meet those hazel eyes. It's Dean's turn to sigh. "Screw it. I love you, Cas." Castiel's mouth opens in shock, and his body is shaken by Dean's laugh before Dean bends his body so he can kiss Cas on the lips, his mouth so gentle and tender before he leans back again and his hands continue those slow strokes along Castiel's back.

"I love you, too, Dean," Cas replies simply as he feels the last of the tension drain from his body. His eyelids are growing heavy; he feels so safe and so warm, and he's so tired... A moment before the blackness of sleep claims him, he hears Dean speak again, whispering it softly.

"That son of a bitch will never touch you again. I swear it."


	6. Chapter 6

Cas wakes, slowly at first, then in a rush as he realises he's alone in the huge bed. The sheets where Dean would normally sleep are cool to the touch, and he jerks upright, panic rising in him. _Oh, God, last night, I shouldn't have-!_ His heart hammers in his chest, but just then he hears a familiar voice call from just outside the door.

"Rise and shine, buddy!" Dean opens the trailer door and walks up the steps, carrying two steaming mugs. Cas' heartbeat slows, and he hugs his knees to his chest.

"I may rise," Cas manages to say past the relieved smile that is curling his lips, "but I refuse to shine."

"Aww, c'mon," Dean teases as he settles on the bed and holds out a mug brimming with coffee that is just the shade Cas prefers. "It's like, eleven o'clock." Castiel takes the cup and sips, and the coffee is perfect; sweet and slightly flavoured with cinnamon. "So drink your coffee and get your ass out of bed. We've got things to do and places to be." Cas' heartbeat accelerates again - he knows Dean well enough to be apprehensive of that resolute expression on his face. He hides his anxiety behind taking another sip of coffee.

"What do you mean?" he asks warily when he's sure his voice won't betray the fear he's beginning to feel. Dean's expression softens, and he leans forward to press a kiss to Castiel's forehead.

"It's gonna be okay, Cas, I promise." Dean rests his free hand on Cas' knee. "Do you trust me?" After last night, the answer comes easily.

"Yes."

"So drink your coffee and get dressed." Dean smiles at him, a smile that makes Cas feel warm and safe and loved, and in that moment, Cas believes – not in God, but in Dean Winchester.

"Okay," he says simply.

Half an hour later the coffee is finished and Cas is dressed in clean clothes. Dean accompanies him to Bobby's house, where he watches Sam bounce around like an enthusiastic puppy with an armload of sheets and pillows.

"I'm making the bed up, 'kay? It'll be great, I swear!" Then Sam is off and up the stairs, leaving Cas to stare after him in bemusement.

"Dean, what's going on?" he asks as a suspicion begins to form in his mind.

"You didn't tell him?" Bobby asks as he leans in the doorway to the kitchen. The old man shakes his head and laughs. "Damn, Dean, its something you kinda _have_ to talk to him about, don't ya think?"

"You tell him then, while I find my keys," Dean replies as he starts hunting through a dish on the kitchen table.

"Tell me what?" Cas demands. Bobby laughs again, then beckons Cas closer and lowers his voice.

"From the look on Dean's face when he came in this morning and _tells_ me, not asks me, that you're gonna to be staying here a while, I can kinda guess what's going on at that house of yours." Bobby reaches out, hesitates a moment, then rests a hand on Cas' shoulder, kindness in his eyes. "So here's two pieces of advice. First, I'm here if you ever need to talk, okay?" He waits until Cas nods, then continues. "Second, and I learned this from years of knowin' his Daddy, don't _ever_ get in the way when a Winchester has a plan. Just ride it out and pick up the pieces when it's over." Bobby settles his cap on his head as Dean brushes past him.

"C'mon, Cas, we're going to get your stuff." Cas' jaw drops. Dean says it so casually.

"But... But..."

"You're _not_ staying there. End of story. So come on."

"Gimme the keys," Bobby says calmly as he walks to the door and grabs his jacket.

"You think I'm going to let you drive my baby?" Dean retorts.

"I don't ride shotgun or back seat, so yeah, you are." The two exit, leaving Cas stunned and helpless in the hall.

"Come on, Cas!" Dean yells from the yard, shocking him into movement. Dean is leaning against the front passenger door of the Impala; Bobby is already behind the wheel.

"I don't know if I can do this," Cas blurts when he gets close enough. Dean smiles a little sadly and reaches up one hand to cup Castiel's cheek. His eyes are full of loving concern, matching the tone in his voice when he speaks.

"You think I'm giving you a choice?" He pulls Cas close into a hard hug and speaks softly into his ear. "You're going to come live here, where you'll be safe, okay? Where that son of a bitch can never touch you again. Please. For me?"

"What about Anna?" Cas says a little angrily, pulling away. "I can't just leave her. She's only fourteen, Dean." Bobby shocks them both when he speaks.

"She can come too, if she wants." The old man clears his throat. "I've seen your bruises, boy. I'm not leaving anyone in that house that doesn't want to be there. Now get in the car. We're wasting daylight."

The ride to Castiel's house is simultaneously the longest and the shortest journey he's ever gone on. For the entire trip his mind is whirling, but the only thing that gives him comfort is the knowledge that Michael won't be home – he'll be at work. Will Anna come with them? Will his Dad be sober enough to know what's going on? Or will he be drunk – drunk-and-mean, or drunk-and-indifferent? Cas' stomach lurches when he realises the car has stopped outside the sprawling two storey house and Bobby and Dean are looking at him, patiently waiting. And it's enough to give him confidence, that mix of love, concern and kindness in Dean's eyes, confidence to open the car door and step out onto the front lawn.

"They're not your family, Cas," Dean says as Castiel falters. "They're just a bunch of dicks that you're unfortunately related to."

Castiel takes a deep breath, then marches to the door and walks inside. He makes it halfway to the stairs before a voice speaks from the kitchen, causing him to freeze up and his stomach to knot.

"Hello, little brother. I told you I'd be waiting," Michael says. He's standing in the kitchen, with the rest of Castiel's siblings ranged around him. Cas can't move; fear has him in its tight grip. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns his head to see Dean standing behind him, facing Michael. "So," sneers the eldest brother, and Cas wants to run, to hide, from that look on Michael's face. "You're the one fucking my brother, aren't you?" Castiel can't meet the condemnation and disgust in the eyes of his family. Dean squeezes his shoulder gently, and Cas shifts his gaze. Dean arches one eyebrow.

"You wanna go out with a bang or a whimper?" he asks softly, and grins. Cas straightens his shoulders and smiles back, feeling warmth in his chest at the look in Dean's eyes.

"A bang. Definitely a bang," he replies.

"I was kinda hoping you'd say that." Dean lowers his hand and takes a step towards Michael, and Cas can see his grin has hardened, and is now arrogant and insolent.

"I asked you a question," Michael growls, walking forward himself. "Are you fucking my brother?"

"Yeah," Dean replies. "But then again, so are you." Silence falls, deep and absolute. The only sound is Bobby's shoes on the hardwood floor as he comes forward and places himself between Dean and Michael.

"Boys. Let's not do anything we're gonna regret in the morning."

"Beating the shit out of this piece of crap isn't something I'll _ever_ regret, Bobby," Dean replies, not taking his eyes off Michael for a moment.

"Yeah, but I'll regret letting you do it. Take Cas upstairs and help him pack. Now."

"Bobby-"

"You heard me. Go." Dean's lip curls as he turns away from the staring contest.

"C'mon, Cas." Castiel leads Dean up the stairs, ignoring how much his hands are shaking as he opens the door to his room. In silence, he stuffs belongings into the two suitcases he owns, and he's struck by how few things he actually possesses. There's a tentative knock at the door, and he and Dean look up to see Anna in the doorway.

"Cas?" she asks softly. "Are you leaving?" Cas drops the clothes he's holding and walks over to her, taking her hands in his.

"Yes, Anna, I have to. If I stay here, he'll..." Cas swallows, then finds the strength to continue. "If I stay, he'll kill me one day. I know it." Anna lowers her eyes, and Cas squeezes her hands. "Come with us, please. Bobby says it's okay. I'll look after you." She shakes her head.

"I can't. You _can't_. Cas, we're your _family_."

"No. You're family. The rest of them just happen to be related to me." Anna pulls her hands away.

"How can you say that?" Cas runs a shaking hand through his hair as he makes a bitter noise.

"You all saw the bruises. You all see the way he treats me, what he does. You, you're too young. But the others?" The words pour out of him in a flood; with Dean so close Cas finally has the courage to say the words that have been festering inside him for so long. "Why didn't they say anything? Why didn't they try to stop him? Why didn't _Dad_? I had to stay before. Now I've got a place to go. Dean's given me a place to go." Anna's large eyes swing across to stare at Dean, who is stuffing Castiel's school books into a bag.

"Him. This is all his fault." Cas takes a step back from the venom in her voice.

"How can you say that?"

"Everything was fine until _he_ came along. Then you started dating him and everything changed. You changed. You're an _abomination_ now." Castiel takes another step back, unable to believe the words coming out of Anna's mouth. He stops when Dean's hands come up and press against his shoulders, holding him in place.

"Listen up, sister," Dean says, and there's a coldness to his tone that makes the hair on Cas' neck stand up. "I don't know how you can call getting beaten and raped _fine_, but I'm taking him out of this mess you call a family. If you've got even half a brain, you'll get out, too. But you're not coming with us. Not after that." Anna shakes her head.

"I wouldn't go _anywhere_ with _you_." She turns and stalks off. Cas is shaking so hard his teeth are chattering, and Dean pulls him close and holds him, just holds him, until the shaking subsides. Dean kisses his forehead.

"C'mon, we're almost done." They finish packing Castiel's life into the suitcases and one lonely bag, which Cas shoulders before picking up one of the cases as Dean grabs the other. "Ready?" Dean asks as Cas takes another look around his room. His reply is cut short by a high pitched yelp of pain, and they share a shocked look before bolting for the stairs. When they stop and look down, Castiel wishes longingly for a camera.

Michael is on his knees, an expression of shock and pain on his face. Bobby is using both hands to hold the younger man's arm at a very painful-looking angle. "Not very smart, boy," Bobby is saying as he shakes his head. "Not smart at all." Cas and Dean descend the stairs as Michael glares and tries to escape the hold.

"You're going to regret this, Castiel," he threatens through gritted teeth. "I swear, I'm going to make you pay." Cas straightens his shoulders as he looks down at his tormentor.

"Tell it to the cops, _brother_. Let's go."

"You go," Bobby says, "just in case genius here tries something else. I'll be there in a minute." Cas throws him a grateful look before pulling the door wide and walking out into the blinding afternoon sunshine.

**Author's note**: And the moral of the story is, Bobby Singer is a BAMF no matter what universe he inhabits. Stick with me, there's more to come.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean pops the Impala's trunk with the switch on the dash and Cas helps him pile the cases inside. He feels giddy; light headed; not entirely _there, _and he finds himself grinning like a fool. He's free. He's _out_. He _escaped_.

"Y'know," Dean says, not completely casually, "we could probably fit a body in here, no problem." Cas looks at him, and Dean is looking back at the house, a dark expression on his face. Castiel reaches out and grasps his hand, squeezing gently.

"It's over, Dean," he says. "It's done. You... You saved me." Dean groans theatrically, but returns the pressure against his fingers.

"This isn't a chick flick, Cas," he replies. He pauses, and that dark look comes back. "Get in the car. Now." Cas follows his gaze. Bobby is now standing on the steps to the front door, but the old man's frame doesn't completely hide Cas' dad from view. Chuck Shirley is dressed in nothing more than a pair of boxers and a robe, but he looks angry, and he looks mean. "I mean it. Get in," Dean continues, urgency in his voice as he closes the Impala's trunk. Cas opens the rear door and climbs in, and is surprised when Dean pushes him over, placing himself between Cas and the house. They can hear Castiel's father yelling now, but not Bobby – it seems like the old man is keeping his cool.

"How dare you come into _my_ house, assault one of _my_ sons and abduct another?" Bobby says something, and Chuck's reply is quite clear. "He's _seventeen_, you moron, he's not old enough to choose!" Cas watches over Dean's shoulder as Bobby shakes his head and says something else. "Don't you fucking _dare_ tell me what to do in my own house! Castiel, _get your ass back here!_" Bobby turns and starts to walk away, and Chuck stalks after him, reaching up to grab Bobby's shoulder. Bobby shrugs him off and returns to the car; he ignores Cas' dad like he's doesn't even exist as he walks around the Impala and climbs into the driver's seat. Chuck Shirley tries the rear passenger door to no avail – Cas didn't even see Dean lock it, but he must have, and for that, Cas is profoundly grateful. For an eternity, Cas and his father lock eyes as the Impala rumbles to life. Even over the growl of the engine, Cas can hear his father's threat, one that echoes Michael's. "You're going to regret this." Bobby guns it, peeling away from the curb in a squeal of tires, leaving Chuck behind.

Cas turns to look through the rear window, and he sees Michael has joined his father on the curb. Michael locks eyes with his younger brother and a shiver runs up Cas' spine as they grow smaller and smaller behind the Impala – Michael has lifted one hand and is running one finger across his throat, slow and deliberate, his smile mocking and vicious.

"That son of a bitch-!" Dean exclaims. Cas turns to see that he is watching too, and his hands are clenched in anger. Castiel covers one of Dean's fists with his fingers and repeats himself.

"It's over, Dean. It's done." Dean turns, and Cas' heart feels too big for his chest as he watches the anger melt into that familiar mix of exasperation, annoyance and love that he seems to bring to Dean's eyes so often. All he can do is lean forward, wrap his arms around Dean's waist and press his face to Dean's chest. "You've saved me." Bobby clears his throat from the front seat.

"Don't you two start makin' out back there like a pair of horny teenagers," he scolds, amusement in his voice.

"But Bobby," Dean replies, all innocence, as he wraps his arms around Castiel in return, "we _are_ a pair of horny teenagers." Cas laughs against Dean's shirt, a laugh that staves off the tears that are starting to prickle behind his eyes.

"Can we just go home, please?" Cas begs. "It's been a really stressful day."

"Sure, kid," Bobby answers. "But you're gonna have to think about what you're gonna do about 'em." From the tone of his voice, Cas knows Bobby saw the gesture Michael had made as they were leaving.

"Hey, Bobby, where'd you learn that arm hold?" Dean asks. "That was _awesome_."

"What'd you think I did in the army, boy? Pick daisies?"

"Do you think you could teach me?"

"I think I'm gonna have to teach you both a trick or two," Bobby muses. "But when we get home, the first thing I'm gonna do is make a call." He refuses to comment further, no matter what Dean says on the ride home, and simply tosses Dean the keys and vanishes into the house when they arrive. Dean frowns, then shrugs as he unlocks the trunk.

"Close-mouthed bastard," he says, clearly amused, as he and Castiel pull out the cases and Cas' bag. Sam bounds down the steps and offers to help, so Dean instantly hands over the single case he's carrying. "C'mon, lets go check out your new room." Cas slows his steps deliberately as Sam rushes away.

"Why can't I stay in the trailer with you?" he asks softly.

"Bobby vetoed it," Dean replies. "He says you need your own space, and I kinda agree with him." Dean stops, one hand on Cas' arm. "But that doesn't mean you can't... sleep over." He smiles wickedly. "Now that we're neighbours and all."

"Dean, I can't... I mean, I don't... Dean, everything you've done for me..."

"_Cas_." Dean stops his stammering with one word. "You're welcome, okay?" He leans in and kisses Castiel gently. Anything else Cas might have said is drowned out by Sam standing at the door and demanding to know why they're taking so long. As they cross the threshold, Cas smiles to himself. _Home._

They can hear Bobby talking on the phone as they walk to the stairs, and all three of them stop to look. The old man is almost yelling. "- _don't care_, you son of a bitch. You _owe_ me." He looks up to see three sets of curious eyes, scowls, then heads towards the living room, and they hear the door slide shut behind him.

"He's really big on the mystery today, isn't he?" Dean says aloud to no one in particular as they climb the stairs. "I wonder who he's talking to?" As Sam leads Cas proudly to the guest room that overlooks the front of the house, Cas decides he doesn't really care. He puts down the case and the bag, and smiles at Sam.

"Nice job on the bed," he says as Dean crosses to the window. "Want to help me unpack?"

"Sure," Sam replies cheerfully. "It's gonna be great, having you here." They empty the cases into the dresser and the closet, and the contents of his bag are soon stacked on the rickety desk that sits beside the door. The room is tiny; the furniture is second hand at best; but Cas is so happy he could almost burst. Then Sam picks something up and holds it out. "Bobby said I should give this to you. He says it's your choice to use it or not." Castiel looks at what the boy is offering him; it's a lock, a simple bar and cuff, but thick and sturdy. "I can get a screwdriver, if you want," Sam adds. Cas smiles, even though the tears are threatening again.

"You know what? I think I'll just hold on to it for now." Dean glances over, and Cas knows Dean has read his change of mood in a heartbeat.

"Why don't you go get us some snacks, runt?" he asks Sam.

"Runt?!" Sam complains indignantly. Then he stops, and looks from Dean to Cas and back again. "Oh," he says. "Yeah, okay. How long should I take to get 'em?" Dean crosses the room with a wry smile and ruffles his little brother's hair.

"Half an hour. At least."

"Okay." Sam steps to the door, then looks back. "Cas? I'm glad you're here." He disappears down the hall, and Cas slumps on the bed, holding the bar in his hands. Dean sits beside him in silence for a moment.

"So tell me," Dean finally invites. "You're getting weepy over a lock? And a crappy one, at that."

"It's not..." Cas takes a deep breath, trying to sort through the jumble of his feelings. "Bobby giving me this... It means this room is _mine_, Dean. That I can stop anyone coming in if I want to. That I can have a private place, all my own." He shakes his head, and a single tear falls. "It's... kind of overwhelming. I've never had a place that I could call private before."

"Oh. I didn't think of that." Cas shrugs awkwardly and scrubs at his eyes with the back of one hand, his other clenching around the bar.

"It's a lot to take in. A lot. And I keep swinging from being so happy I feel like I'm high to being so depressed... I don't know what to think, what to feel..." Dean rests a hand on Castiel's knee.

"When have you ever been high?" he asks jokingly before his face sobers. "Look, man, I'm sure that's gotta be normal. It's okay. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Thanks, Dean." Dean bumps him with his shoulder.

"Just don't close me out, okay? Talk to me when you need to." Cas lets out a deep sigh.

"This is probably going to be a rough few days for you," he warns, managing a smile.

"I'm sure I can deal-" Dean is interrupted by the noise of a car crunching up Bobby's driveway. "Huh? We're not expecting anyone." He rises and crosses to the window again. "Man, that's a sweet ride," he says, peering out the window. "I don't believe it," Dean gasps, and Cas frowns at him. He thought he was the only one who put that lustful tone in Dean's voice.

"What?"

"_It's an Aston Martin DB5!_" Dean says it like it makes sense, so Cas is forced to repeat himself.

"What?"

"It's the car from Goldfinger, Cas," Dean says impatiently. "It's _James Bond's_ fucking car. I have to see who it is." A knock at the door rumbles like thunder through the house, and Dean grabs Cas' hand. "C'mon!" Cas lets Dean drag him to his feet and out the door, his mood lightened by the childlike wonder in Dean's face.

Sam is holding the front door open, and standing on the porch is a short man with black hair, a neat black beard, and a tailored suit that practically screams 'money'. Bobby emerges from the kitchen and scowls at the visitor for a moment before speaking.

"Took you long enough."

"You don't just snap your fingers and make me appear, Singer," the stranger replies in a voice that is both rough and British. He looks up at Dean and Cas, and a slight smile curves his mouth. Cas hides a shudder – the smile makes the stranger look predatory and dangerous. Bobby follows the stranger's gaze and gives a snort.

"Come on down, boys." Cas trails Dean down the stairs, wanting to keep Dean between himself and the stranger. "I want you to meet a... Ah, hell, he ain't a friend. This is Crowley. He's bottom feeding pond scum." Crowley makes a noise of protest, looking injured. "Sorry. He's a _lawyer_," and Bobby's tone makes that word an insult.

"I love you too, Bobby," Crowley replies, making an obscene gesture with one hand. They glare at each other for a moment, and Cas can't help but feel the tension humming in the air between them.

"Drink?" Bobby finally asks.

"That swill? Hell no. I'm not stupid; I brought my own."

"Then get your ass in here. Dean, Cas, you too. Sam, go find something to do." Sam makes a disappointed sound, but Bobby shoos him off and leads the others into the lounge room. He makes himself comfortable behind his desk while Dean and Cas take the sofa. Crowley prowls the room for a moment, only pausing his inspection long enough to accept the glass Bobby offers. He pulls a silver flask from inside his coat as he stares at the pictures on the wall and pours himself two fingers-worth of amber liquid.

"You know, I don't think I've ever been in your house before," Crowley says. "It's positively antique. It suits you, old man."

"Who you callin' old?" Bobby demands. "You ain't that much younger than me."

"Ah, but I take so much better care of myself," the lawyer purrs, finally pulling out the other desk chair. He sits, fussily adjusts his coat and crosses one leg over the other. "So, why exactly am I here? What's so important you had to call in your marker?" Bobby gestures at Cas.

"That's Castiel Shirley."

"And the other?" Crowley inquires.

"I'm Dean. And I gotta say, I love your car." Crowley arches his eyebrows as Dean continues. "I mean, a DB5? That's just... _awesome_."

"Thank you. But I'm quite sure I'm not here to discuss my car."

"Right," Bobby resumes. "Cas here... He's got some family troubles." Crowley turns his head and fixes Cas with a piercing stare. It's like the man can see all the way into his soul, and this time Cas can't hide his shiver. Bobby tries to continue, but Crowley simply and arrogantly raises one hand, the palm towards the old man in a grand gesture for silence.

"Castiel Shirley. Your pa's the famous novelist, right?" Cas swallows, and nods. "So what kind of 'family troubles' could a rich little kid like you have?"

"Hey!" Dean exclaims, anger in his voice. "Don't talk to him like that."

"Did your daddy beat you, Castiel?" Crowley draws out Cas' name, pronouncing each syllable separately as he keeps his gaze locked with Castiel's. "Did he bend you over and bugger you?" Cas is white and shaking, lips trembling, but he can tell that the lawyer is baiting him. He's seen that look in Michael's eyes before, the challenge and the arrogance. He manages to speak underneath Dean and Bobby's exclamations of anger, and finds the strength to say the words to this complete stranger.

"Dad hit me. My brother. Michael. He... He beat me and he..." Crowley smiles, white teeth flashing in the middle of the black beard, and Cas is disgusted by the joy in the lawyers' eyes as he shrinks back against Dean's warmth.

"And you're what, sixteen? Seventeen?" Cas nods again, and Crowley's smile broadens into a grin. "I smell a lawsuit," he announces before he takes a sip of his drink. "We'll need to file for emancipated minor status, then emotional and physical damages. All I want in return is my fees paid. And fifty percent of anything awarded, of course." Crowley takes another drink as Bobby splutters and Dean rages. He completely ignores them both and speaks only to Castiel. "We're going to need sworn statements from witnesses. And it'd help to have a family member speak up for you."

"They... They wouldn't..." Cas stops as a thought occurs to him, and he blurts the name before thinking it through. "Gabriel. My brother. But he ran away and I don't know where he is."

"Then that's where I'll start," Crowley says, rising to his feet and tossing back the last of his alcohol. "Bobby, we're square, understand?" He puts his glass down on Bobby's desk and rubs his hands together, a gleeful expression on his face. "In fact, if this works out, I might just owe you one. I'm going to take Chuck Shirley for every penny he's got. I'll fax you the papers to get a restraining order, just to get the ball rolling. I'll be seeing you again, Castiel." With those words, sounding somewhere between threat and promise, the lawyer exits, leaving a stunned trio in his wake.

"Well," Bobby says, finally breaking the silence as he unscrews the cap on his bottle of whiskey and pours a measure. "If you're gonna go swimming, I'm guessing having a shark on your side is a good thing."

"I don't like him," Dean announces in a growl. Cas closes his eyes.

"He's in it for the money, Dean," Bobby replies. "That's the best motivator a smug bastard like Crowley could ever have." Dean wraps an arm around Castiel's shoulders, pulling him close, and Cas sags against him, feeling drained and nauseous.

"That still doesn't mean I like him. And why does he owe you a favour?" Cas opens his eyes enough to see Bobby look uncomfortable.

"None of your damn business," Bobby growls, and Cas is surprised by the faint blush that is creeping up the old man's cheeks. "Don't you two have somewhere else to be?" Dean rises to his feet and pulls Cas with him. Cas sways for a moment, as both Dean and Bobby look at him in concern. It's too much; the difference in the way they look at him now and the way his family looked at him just that morning. Cas pulls away and bolts for the bathroom, and spends the next five minutes dry heaving into the sink as Dean strokes his hair and murmurs soothing nothings. Sam fetches him water and aspirin to quiet the pounding in his skull as Dean helps him up the stairs and tucks him in to his new bed.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas says helplessly. "I'm just... It's too much. I don't know if I can do this."

"It's okay, Cas," Dean replies, pulling the chair out from the desk and moving it to Castiel's bedside. Cas looks up to see a wry smile on Dean's face.

"What?" he asks.

"I've got a feeling I'm going to be saying that a lot for a while, that's all. Now have a nap, and you can have some soup when you wake up."

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're going to be saying that a lot, too," Dean chuckles, running a hand over Cas' hair. "Now go to sleep."

**Author's note:** Well _of course_ Crowley drives _the_ Bond car and is a lawyer.


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel wakes, awareness slowly returning, along with embarrassment. His first few hours as a resident of Bobby's house and he's already thrown up and passed out. He turns his head on the pillow and can't help but smile as he sees Dean, still seated in the chair beside the bed. Dean's slowly reading his way through a sheaf of papers, but when Castiel glances across he lowers them and smiles.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Cas replies, lifting himself up onto one elbow and rubbing a hand through his hair. "What are you reading?" To his surprise, Dean blushes a little.

"Well, ah..." The hazel-eyed teen clears his throat. "Sam found some stuff online and printed it out for me."

"Stuff?" Cas sits up, fascinated. He's seen Dean cocky and arrogant and smug; he's never seen Dean unsure before.

"Yeah." The word is uttered in a growl. "I guess he thought it might, um, help."

"What is it?" Cas asks, suspiciously. Seeing Dean reading something that isn't a car magazine is interesting, to say the least.

"It's... They're guides on how to deal with people with post-traumatic stress. Abuse victims, that kind of thing."

"Define _deal with_," Cas replies.

"You know, just what you're going through, in your head and stuff." Cas thinks it's cute that Dean blushes redder.

"You're studying? For me? Dean, I don't know what to say," Castiel teases. He doesn't know why this isn't making him uncomfortable – instead, it makes him feel cared for; warts and all, as the saying goes. "Wait, how did Sam know?"

"Sammy's a smart kid," Dean admits. "It wasn't that hard for him to put two and two together." He grins. "And he was eavesdropping when that lawyer was here."

"That would do it," Cas replies. He looks around, noting its dark outside. "What time is it?" Dean checks his watch.

"Around eight. Are you hungry, 'cause I'm _starving_." Castiel pushes back the blankets and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You know what? I actually am." In charity with each other, they head down the stairs and into the kitchen. Sam is standing beside the stove, watching Bobby stir something that smells delicious.

"But I'm hungry _now_," Sam complains.

"Give it another half hour. If he ain't awake by then..." Bobby stops, and turns to see Cas and Dean in the doorway. He smiles, then speaks to Sam. "I guess your wish got granted. Set the table." Instead of doing so, however, Sam approaches Cas with a shy smile.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, a little anxiously. Castiel reaches out and ruffles Sam's hair.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks, Sam." Sam's smile becomes relieved.

"I was worried," Sam says, before he turns away and starts rummaging for bowls and cutlery.

"We all were," Bobby notes as he puts down the wooden spoon and gives Cas a long, searching stare.

"I... I'm sorry, sir, about... before," Castiel mumbles.

"Why?" Bobby replies, eyes twinkling under his ever-present cap. "You made it to the sink in time." Cas opens and closes his mouth a few times. "Are you just gonna stand there and do a goldfish impression, or are we gonna eat?" Bobby adds, turning back to the table, but not before Cas can see the smile on his face.

They sit and they eat, and for the first time in his life Castiel feels like he's a part of a normal family. Bobby and Dean trade jokes, and Sam chatters away at an almost frantic pace. Bobby draws Cas into the conversation, and pulls from him his hopes for life after high school. He admits to it with no hesitation – his dearest wish is to go to college and become a veterinarian. Dean grins at him and swallows a mouthful of bread.

"You know cats make me sneeze, right?" he asks. Castiel raises his eyebrows and smiles back.

"You're just going to have to deal with it, aren't you?" Then he flinches, experience telling him that a comment like that at the dinner table will have consequences. Instead, Bobby gives a hearty laugh.

"He's gotcha there, boy." Dinner is rounded off with a ginger and peach cobbler that Bobby hems and haws about before finally admitting it was a gift from a neighbour.

"That Macy woman?" Dean asks, interested.

"Marcy. And yeah." Bobby glares at him, daring Dean to make an issue of it.

"It's nice you're making friends," Dean replies instead, grinning an insolent grin.

"Shove it, Winchester," Bobby growls, and Dean laughs. The four of them end the evening in the lounge room with some silly action movie playing on the TV; Sam sprawled on his belly on the floor, school books and note books scattered around him; Bobby behind his desk working on the yard's account books; and Cas and Dean on the couch. Castiel is curled up under Dean's protective arm, cheek cradled against Dean's shoulder while Dean's hand strokes his thigh absently. It's perfect, just _perfect_, and Cas feels like he can stay just like this for the rest of his life.

The credits are rolling when Sam picks himself up and wishes them goodnight through a gaping yawn. Bobby checks his watch, then grins over at the pair on the couch. "Yeah, I think I'll turn in, too," he says, way too casually. "Don't stay up too late." Dean makes the same gesture Crowley made earlier in the day and Bobby leaves the room laughing. Cas' arms come up to encircle Dean's waist, and he rubs his cheek against Dean's chest.

"Now that we're alone..." he says suggestively, peeking up at Dean through his eyelashes. Dean strokes a thumb across Cas' lips before cupping his chin.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," he begins, to be cut off by Castiel's mouth on his. They kiss, long and soft and sweet, and when they break apart, Cas smiles up at him.

"I want to," he replies. Dean's arms tighten.

"I don't want you to _ever_ feel pressured by me." Cas shakes his head as he runs a hand along Dean's chest.

"I always want you. Always."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Dean leans in and kisses Cas again. "Are you sure?" Castiel makes an exasperated sound, then shifts until he's straddling Dean's lap. He tangles his fingers in Dean's hair and pulls his face close.

"Will you just shut up and fuck me?" Cas breathes against Dean's lips. Dean makes a noise that is halfway between a laugh and a groan into Cas' mouth as they kiss again, and this time the kiss is hot and messy.

"You know what it does to me when you talk dirty," Dean gasps as he pulls Cas' shirt up and over his head. He tosses it to the floor, where it is quickly joined by Dean's own. Dean's hands curl over Cas' shoulders and hold him tight while their tongues tangle again before one hand slides to cup Cas' neck as Dean encourages Castiel to lean back. Dean presses a line of kisses down and over Cas' jaw and throat, before he flicks his a wet line over Cas' collarbone. Castiel can only hold on and make helpless noises of encouragement as Dean kisses lower, before Dean takes one of Cas' nipples in his mouth and sucks, hard.

Dean knows exactly how to push Cas' buttons; after two years of practice, he's very good it, Cas thinks vaguely as one of Dean's hands slides down to cup his ass. Cas buries both his hands in Dean's hair as Dean moves across to suck at the other nipple, leaving red marks in his wake. Together, they work Cas' pants to mid-thigh, and they shift positions until Cas is seated and Dean is kneeling on the floor between Castiel's legs. Another long kiss, then Dean bends forward, hands and lips wrapping around Cas' cock. Castiel lets his head fall back and he moans in pleasure as Dean swallows him down; his hands return to Dean's hair as his vision begins to haze. Those calloused hands cup his sack, and he's nearly there, right on the edge of coming.

Dean pulls back, and Cas can't help whimpering. "Why did you stop?" he gasps. "I was almost-"

"I know," Dean replies roughly, rising back up and kissing him thoroughly. "We've gone further in here than I wanted to. I don't want to do this on Bobby's couch - I want you in my _bed_, Cas."

"Oh," Cas replies, before he smiles. "Yes, that would be good." He can't do his pants up around the raging erection Dean has given him, so he hides it behind his tee shirt as they stumble out into the night towards Dean's trailer, exchanging kisses and gropes on the way. When they make it up the steps, Dean backs towards the bed, pulling Cas with him. Castiel gauges his moment perfectly; when the backs of Dean's knees hit the bed, he pushes, sending Dean sprawling backwards onto the bed.

"My turn," he says, deftly skinning Dean out of his pants. Dean starts to say something, but Cas cuts him off by grasping him gently and stroking in just the way Dean likes, before he leans down and takes the head of Dean's shaft into his mouth. There are no memories coming up to bite him now; just the feeling of that soft, silken skin sliding between his lips again and again while Dean moans and writhes beneath him. Cas sucks with just the right amount of pressure and Dean's fists clench in the sheets as he cries out. Castiel looks up into those wild hazel eyes and smiles around the member between his lips before breathing in and taking Dean's full length down his throat until his bottom lip is resting against Dean's balls. He swallows hard, and Dean screams his name as his hips buck up off the bed. A bitter taste blooms in the back of Cas' throat as his lover orgasms; he swallows again, and again Dean says his name, this time in a whisper.

Cas slides back up, letting Dean's cock slip from between his lips as he rises to press his chest against his lover's. They kiss for a long moment as the post-orgasmic haze clears from Dean's eyes; then Dean is fumbling in the cabinets above the bed. He fishes out a bottle of lube and passes it over. "Do me," he gasps. "Now, Cas." Castiel pops the cap and pours a measure, spreading it over both hands.

"Are you sure?" Cas asks, before drawing one finger between the cheeks of Dean's ass.

"Do you want me to beg?" Dean pants, before he gasps as Castiel gently slides one finger inside him. Dean moans, and Cas thinks its the sweetest sound he's ever heard. One finger is soon joined by a second and a third, and Cas finds that spot that has Dean writhing and bucking against the bed again. As his fingers work inside Dean, Castiel strokes his own length back to hardness. He gets into position and slowly works his way inside, and Dean is so hot and so tight Cas has to drive his teeth into his lip to regain control of himself.

Cas cradles Deans hips and lifts them slightly off the bed before he pulls back and thrusts again. Dean's hand curls around his own cock and starts to stroke in a matching rhythm. Watching Dean shut his eyes and toss his head from side to side as he moans is almost his undoing; but Cas bites his lip again until he can keep going. Dean clenches around him a second before he orgasms for a second time, and that's it, Cas is done. He shoves forward, groans Dean's name and comes, hard, white spots dancing before his eyes.

When the spots clear, Cas is resting against Dean's chest and relearning how to breathe. They lie in the tangled, messy sheets of Dean's huge bed, and the only thing Castiel can think is, _I'm home_.


	9. Chapter 9

This time, when Cas wakes, he's more than comfortable. He's spooning with Dean, the taller youth curled around his body from behind, his breath warm and sweet against the back of Castiel's neck. A slow smile curls Cas' lips and he tries to figure out what woke him. He turns his head and looks at the watch on the wrist of the arm curled under his head. It reads 7.45am, and Cas winces – he's going to be late for church. He gently prises off the arm that is wrapped around his waist and scoots aside. Dean makes a sleepy noise of protest, and Castiel can't resist leaning down and kissing him.

"Go back to sleep," he soothes.

"Cas?" Dean mumbles. "Wha' time izzit?"

"Early. Go back to sleep," Cas repeats gently, sliding off the bed and picking up his pants.

"Where ya goin'?"

"I have to get ready for church." There's a pause as Cas buttons his fly, and then Dean is sitting up, stretching and yawning, the sheet pooling in his lap.

"Can't God-" _yawn_ "do without ya this week?" Cas pauses. "Didn't think of that, did ya?" Castiel smiles and shakes his head. "'kay. Gimme a few."

"Huh?"

"Iz important to you, yeah?" Dean's jaws gape in another yawn. "Then iz important to me. I'm comin' with ya." He scruffs his hair with both hands, leaving most of the short strands standing on end, then yawns again. Castiel can't help himself; he crawls back onto the bed and kisses a sleepy Dean thoroughly.

"You'll come to church with me?" he asks as he leans back. Dean smiles at him.

"Yeah. But I'm not wearing a suit. And we'll have to leave fast so we don't run into your family." Cas swallows. He hasn't really thought that part through.

"I don't think they'll try anything, Dean. It's church, and there'll be lots of people around."

"Yeah, well, just in case, 'kay?"

"Okay." Cas exits the trailer, a smile on his face and a warm feeling in his chest, all thoughts of seeing his family today forgotten. _It's important to you, yeah? Then it's important to me._ He tugs the front door open and almost trips over Sam, who is wandering through the hallway in his pyjamas holding a bowl of cereal.

"Mornin', Cas," he says. "Why are you up so early?"

"Its Sunday. I'm going to church." _And Dean's coming with me_. "So I gotta rush, or we'll be late." Sam follows him up the stairs.

"Who's we?"

"Dean's coming with me," Castiel replies as he steps into his room.

"Hey, can I come too?" Cas stops, rooted to the spot.

"Why?" he manages, turning to look at the boy standing in the doorway. Sam shrugs, clearly a little uncomfortable under Cas' scrutiny.

"I've never been, that's all. Dad doesn't believe, and Bobby..." Sam grins. "Getting Bobby out of bed before ten on a Sunday is impossible. So can I come?" Castiel blinks a few times, then smiles in return.

"Sure, why not? But I'm in the shower first."

It takes an hour and some grumbling from Dean, but the Winchesters and Castiel pile into the Impala and make it to the church, five minutes late. They sneak inside and slip into an empty pew at the back. Cas' heart swells again at the curiosity on Sam's face and the sleepiness on Dean's – they're here because _he's_ here, no matter their reasoning, and once again he feels wanted and cared for.

They sit through the service, and when Cas shares the song book with them, he's surprised by how tuneful the Winchester brothers can be when singing the hymns. Sam doesn't just stop with reading the verse of the day; he pages through the bible and begins to read the entire chapter. Dean doesn't yawn once or let his boredom show; making Castiel very proud. When the pastor concludes the service, Cas reaches over and squeezes Dean's hand.

"Thank you," he murmurs under the rumble of people standing up.

"Welcome," Dean replies. "Can we go get breakfast now?" Cas laughs as he nods.

"I want waffles," Sam says.

"You've already had cereal," Dean reminds him as they walk out of the church. Sam starts walking backwards so he can argue with his brother.

"So? Doesn't mean I'm not still-" Sam is stopped abruptly when he crashes into someone's back. "Oh, sorry!" he exclaims, turning around. "I didn't mean to..." The figure turns around and Cas' heart starts to hammer in his chest as Michael drops a hand to Sam's shoulder.

"That's..." Castiel's eldest brother stops, and Sam gives a pained yelp as Michael's knuckles go white. "You've got some nerve, little brother," Michael says. "Coming here and bringing your faggot lover with you." Cas watches Dean's fists clench.

"Let my brother go," Dean grates, stepping forward. "Right now."

"This shrimp is your brother?" Michael gives a shrug. Cas tries, but misses the catch when Michael tosses Sam aside like he's a rag doll. Sam goes down hard, scraping both knees and his hands when he hits the concrete.

"You son of a bitch," Dean growls, and then the fight is on. Castiel lunges to Sam's side in the melee, and pulls the boy to his feet.

"Are you okay?" he asks, but Sam is ignoring him, his mouth open as he watches the fight. Michael has an inch in height and a few pounds of muscle on Dean; but that isn't a problem for Dean, who in his rage puts Michael on the ground in a matter of seconds. Cas runs across when Dean is astride Michael, his fist slamming down again and again. Castiel grabs the upraised hand when it cocks back again, struggling against Dean's strength, and pleads with his lover.

"Dean, it's enough, please, stop!" Dean turns his head, and his hazel eyes are blazing with fury. Sam peeks around Cas and adds his own voice.

"I'm okay, Dean. You can stop." The fury fades, until Dean looks back at Michael.

"You touch my little brother again, and I will kill you, do you understand me?" he asks. Michael glares back, then rolls his head to the side and spits out a mouthful of blood.

"Get... off... me, you... fag _bastard_," Michael snarls. Cas helps Sam haul Dean to his feet, and they both hang on as Michael gets up too.

"C'mon, Dean, let's _go_," Castiel begs. "_Please_." Dean shakes off their hands and straightens his jacket, staring at Michael all the while.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm done here." They walk back to the Impala, and when they're inside, Cas leans across and taps the bloodied knuckles of Dean's hand and waits until those hazel eyes focus on him.

"Just so you know? That was really stupid."

"But, thanks," Sam says. "That was your brother, right, Cas?"

"Yeah, that was Michael," Dean replies as he starts the engine. "Are you really okay, Sammy?"

"Just a bit bruised," Sam replies. "Can we have breakfast now?" Cas gives a shaky laugh.

"Sure," Dean says as he puts the Impala in gear. "Waffles, right?"

**Author's note**: D'you know how long I've been waiting to write in that beat down? Perks of being an author.


	10. Chapter 10

They'd gone home after waffles; Castiel had doctored both Dean's knuckles and Sam's knees, and all three of them had received a scolding from Bobby. They were settling in for lunch when there was a thunderous knocking at the door, accompanied by the words, "Police. We have a warrant!" Bobby, scowling, goes to answer; Cas and Dean have time to exchange a look before three beefy deputies enter the kitchen.

"Dean Winchester, you're under arrest for assault. Anything you say can and will be..." Cas tunes out the rest of the words, his hands covering his mouth in shock as Dean is handcuffed and manhandled out the door. Distantly, he can hear that Bobby is saying something and Dean is replying, and then he can hear car doors closing and tyres on gravel as the police drive away. Castiel looks across the kitchen and is jolted by shock – he can see the same sick look in Sam's eyes that he knows is in his own (_this is all my fault!_). They are frozen, staring at each other, before Bobby returns, keys in one hand and jacket in the other. He looks at them for a moment before he snorts.

"Idjits. Ain't your fault, either of you." He crosses the kitchen to the phone as he adds, "Cas, you're gonna have to look after Sam for a bit."

"No," Cas replies, drawing himself up. "I'm coming with you."

"Me, too," Sam chimes in. Bobby scowls, juggling receiver and keys.

"Fine. I ain't got time to argue. Get your stuff together." Castiel and Sam waste no time, and are waiting impatiently beside Bobby's car as he finally joins them. The look on his face discourages questions as they climb in, and the ride to the police station is a silent one. When they stop and pile out, Cas clamps down on his own fear when he sees that Sam is shaking. He offers the boy his hand, and Sam grabs it gratefully and squeezes.

"Thanks, Cas," he whispers. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't-"

"Stop that," Bobby snaps. "It ain't your fault for walking into that..." He stops, perhaps reconsidering his language as he walks into the small police station. "And don't you go blaming yourself, either, Cas," he adds as they step up to the desk. "This is all on Dean and Michael. Idjits."

"Bobby Singer," an amused female voice says. "I should've known you'd come down here to bail him out."

"Jody," Bobby replies gruffly, turning to look at the woman leaning one hip against a door frame.

"Sheriff Mills," she corrects, coolly. "And we're not done processing him. You can just wait there." The dark haired woman points a finger at the bench that runs the half the length of the wall.

"There are things you might want to put in your report," Bobby says. "Like Sam's bruises."

"I'm sorry?" she asks, moving forwards. "Which one of you is Sam?" Tremulously, Sam raises a hand like he's in class. "Hello, Sam," the sheriff says, obviously trying to put the boy at ease. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I... uh..." Sam stutters, then swallows and speaks in a rush. "I bumped in to him and he grabbed me then he threw me."

"That's Michael Shirley?" Sam nods, and the sheriff turns her attention to Cas.

"And you are?"

"Cas. Uh, Castiel... Shirley."

"And he's my client," a new voice adds, rough and roguish. "Sheriff Mills, always a pleasure." Crowley sweeps into the room and smiles at the sheriff, giving her a half bow.

"Crowley," the woman sighs. "As if today wasn't bad enough."

"I'm also representing Dean Winchester," the lawyer adds as he walks towards the doorway. "If you could take me to him? Oh," he adds, turning back and hefting his briefcase. "I've got those papers for you to look at, too, Castiel. Don't go anywhere."

"What papers?" the sheriff asks suspiciously.

"Oh, just an application for a restraining order against most of the members of the Shirley family," Crowley replies breezily. "I did send you a copy, didn't I?" They hear Jody Mills groan as the door closes behind the sheriff and the lawyer.

"That's who you were on the phone to," Cas says to Bobby, who nods.

"Dean's gonna be workin' for free for a while," he grumps as he walks to the bench and sits down. "Crowley don't come cheap." The trio sit in silence for a while. Sam's shakes have lessened somewhat, but when Cas puts an arm around his shoulders Sam doesn't push him away; instead, he hunches in towards Castiel, his head bowed.

Ten minutes pass, then twenty; Bobby rises and begins to pace. Thirty minutes, forty, an hour; then the door opens again and Crowley sticks his head out. "The sheriff has graciously allowed us to use her office for a few minutes. Castiel, if you'll come with me?" Cas gets up after giving Sam's shoulder a gentle pat.

"Wait just a damn minute," Bobby growls. "What about Dean?"

"Oh, the sheriff is releasing him now. Castiel?" Cas follows Crowley through the door and down a narrow hallway. He feels his knees go weak with relief as he sees Dean through a glass door labelled 'Sheriff', and when they enter the tiny room he crosses to Dean and hugs him under Sheriff Mills' amused eyes.

"So that's why," she says cryptically. "Right, Crowley, you've got ten minutes. Make it quick." Crowley smiles his shark's smile and closes the door behind her. For a moment, he just stands there. He turns to look at them, and Cas shivers at the anger in the lawyers' face.

"Boys, boys, boys," Crowley says as he crosses the room to the desk and picks up a file. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"He hurt my brother," Dean growls.

"Right," Crowley replies sarcastically. "So you had to, ah," and here he ruffles through the file. "You had to give him a broken nose, three cracked ribs and a concussion?" The lawyer slaps the file shut and tosses it towards the sheriff's desk, where it lands in the open briefcase. "In front of a whole bunch of unsympathetic witnesses? You're bloody lucky that there's a security camera on the street!"

"What?" Cas asks. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Either no one saw anything, or they're saying Dean was the aggressor, you _idiots_. The preacher took _Michael's_ side." He gives Cas a scathing glance. "Good for your daddy to know all those donations went to a purpose. Why, _why_ did you have to go there?"

"Cas has the right to go to church," Dean snaps.

"Pick another church!" Crowley roars, throwing his hands in the air. "Morons!" He stops, takes a breath and lowers his arms, obviously trying to master his anger. "Today's little adventure gives a whole new meaning to the word _idiotic_. So here's what's going to happen. Castiel, you're going to sign these." He produces a sheaf of documents from the briefcase and holds them out to Cas, who takes them reluctantly. "Dean, you're going to stay the hell away from the Shirley family, do you understand?" Dean and the lawyer match glares. "Don't play with me, boy," Crowley snarls. "If you screw this case up for me, I _will_ make you regret it. _Am I clear_?" Dean finally gives a curt nod. "Good." Crowley produces a pen and shoves it at Cas. "Now _sign_." There are about seven places his signature is required; Cas signs as quickly as possible, wanting to get as far away from Crowley as he possibly can. The lawyer snatches the papers back and stuffs them in his briefcase. "You two fools make my head hurt." With that, he grabs his briefcase and stalks out of the room, brushing past Sheriff Mills on his way out.

She smiles that amused smile again and leans against the door. "I could hear that on the other side of the bull pen," she remarks, brushing a few strands of dark hair away from her face. "You're free to go, Dean. You'll get a letter about when you have to be in court. And I'd take your lawyers advice to heart – stay away from the Shirley family." The smile becomes a grin. "Well, aside from him, anyway," she adds, gesturing at Cas. "Now go on, get." Dean and Cas return to the front of the station, where Sam bounds to his feet and runs to hug Dean, a torrent of apologies falling from his lips as tears fill his hazel eyes. Dean places his hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Sammy, it's okay. Listen to me. It's not your fault, okay? Where's Bobby?" Sam scrubs at his eyes with a sleeve.

"Outside with that lawyer," he replies, sniffing.

"Let's go, then," Dean says. They troop to the doors, onto to come to a halt as Dean stops in shock, his mouth open. Crowley is standing in the sunshine, an expression that can only be described as a leer on his face as he strokes Bobby's cheek. Bobby's face is red, and his hands are clenched into fists, but he's allowing the caress. "What the hell-?" Dean gasps. Bobby looks up and jumps back, but Crowley just turns and smiles.

"Gentlemen," he purrs, before he crosses to a silver car that Cas can only assume is the one Dean rhapsodised about. "See you later, Bobby." The lawyer takes off, leaving a very confused trio in the doorway and an obviously embarrassed Bobby on the sidewalk.

"You gonna stand there staring all day or are you gonna get in the damn car?" Bobby demands into the silence.

"Bobby, what was that?" Dean asks as he slowly walks towards the older man.

"Nuthin'." Bobby clears his throat. "Get in the car." Dean opens his mouth to speak again, but Cas has had enough of arguments and fights. He reaches out and takes Dean's hand. Dean looks at him and Cas speaks softly.

"Please, Dean, just leave it, okay?" Dean huffs out a sigh.

"Alright. Only for you, though. C'mon, Sam, let's go." They get back into Bobby's car and pull out, leaving the police station behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note**: It's been a while... Sorry about that. This is just a little filler for you before the run down hill to the end. Enjoy... - YN

The following three weeks were the strangest Castiel had ever lived in his 17 years on earth. Bobby was gruff but kind; he didn't hesitate to call Cas out when he'd broken the rules of the house. His chores were both more and less onerous; in exchange for the room, Cas had volunteered to take over most of the housework. It was daunting, having to do all the work himself, but as long as he made an honest attempt, Bobby didn't seem to care if the house got cleaned or not.

True to his word, Bobby had started teaching Castiel some basic self defense; just some holds and throws, mostly, but he also showed Cas the proper way to throw a punch without hurting himself. At first Cas was hesitant, but Bobby was gentle in his teaching and Cas came to enjoy their lessons. The nightmare he'd lived started to recede; he started to feel _normal_.

The lawyer Crowley had demanded he start therapy; it was only when Dean suggested it might be a good idea that Castiel acquiesced. It soon became a regular occurrence for Dean to pick both him and Sam up from school on Tuesdays and Thursdays before he'd drive Cas to his session. Dean and Sam would go for ice cream while Cas sat and talked to Ellen Harvell, the psychologist Crowley had chosen. For their first session Ellen just let him sit there in silence. "It's not easy to open up to a stranger; I know it," she'd said. "But whenever you're ready, I'm here. I promise I'll never judge you, but I also promise I'll never lie to you." Her calm, unshakable manner won him over; it seemed like no time at all before Castiel was telling Ellen his deepest, darkest secrets, things he thought he'd never tell another soul.

She'd also explained that he could expect bad dreams and probably panic attacks. "Your body and your brain are finally feeling safe enough to let you face the worst, honey," Ellen had said at the end of their third session, handing him a card with her home number scrawled on it. "Things get bad, you call me, you hear? Day or night, understand?" Ellen became another life line for Castiel; but Dean was always his first stop when the dreams got bad.

Every few nights he'd knock on the trailer's door; Dean would answer a few moments later, wearing nothing but his briefs and a yawn. The first time he'd started to complain, then he'd seen the look on Castiel's face and shut up. Dean would draw Cas into a gentle hug before leading him to the bed and curling up around him, stroking his hair and murmuring that Castiel was _safe_. Some nights they'd make love; mostly they'd just cuddle together, Dean being Cas' anchor against the memories.

On week day mornings, Dean would bundle Cas into the Impala, then swing past John Winchester's house to pick up Sam and drive them both to school, a place that rapidly became hellish for Castiel. It was the only place he saw the other members of his family; both Anna and Raphael were at the same high since it was a small town. They would stand and stare whenever he walked past, then whisper furiously to their friends. The only thing that got him through the days was Sam. After Sam had noticed what Anna and Raphael were doing, he did the only thing his generous heart would allow – he started going everywhere with Cas. Sam had Castiel's timetable memorised, and would pop up before and after class, smiling and chatting, providing a buffer between Cas and the cold stares of his siblings and their cliques. Sam's friends took to the older boy as well, and for once Cas had people to sit with at lunch who weren't related to him.

His family's animosity flared one day, when Anna and a bunch of her friends cornered Castiel in a stairwell. She'd called him _coward_, and _bastard_, and _traitor_, words Cas knew Michael had put in her mouth. But she was his sister; he couldn't hit her or push her away. So he'd stood, and taken it, and he'd been working up to a full blown panic attack when Sam had pushed his way through the throng. Anna had rounded on him, and started calling him names, too. Cas' mouth had opened in shock when Sam laughed at her.

"Not very Christian of you, Anna," he'd replied breezily. "There are some other words you can apply to the both of us, too. Loyal. Honest. Brave." Sam had walked to Cas' side, keeping his eyes locked with Anna's the entire time. "And one word you might not know. _Family_. C'mon, Cas. Let's ditch these idiots."

Sam had towed him towards his next class, then detoured to the nurse when he saw how badly Castiel was shaking. Dean had come and picked him up, and he'd spent the rest of the day in his room, curled around his pillow and crying, not knowing if they were tears of grief for his sister; or happiness because he now had a real family, one that would defend him, one that would help, not hurt.

Three weeks of heaven after a lifetime of hell; Cas lets Ellen, the Winchester brothers and Bobby Singer start to build him back up, let them make him feel like he's wanted, cared about, loved. But three weeks after he moved into Bobby's house, Castiel receives the call that will change everything.

Dean walks into the kitchen as Castiel hangs up the phone.

"Who was that?" he asks. "Cas, what's wrong?"

"It... It's Crowley. He..." Cas swallows hard. "He found Gabriel."


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note**: The beginning of the end... dun dun duuuun... - YN

Dean squeezes Castiel's hand. "It's gonna be okay."

"But _here_?" Cas asks quietly. "Why would Gabriel be working _here_ of all places?" Dean tugs him towards the door, but Cas plants his feet. "Can't we just wait until he comes out?" Dean turns a laugh into a cough.

"He's been ducking Crowley for a week now. And for once I agree with that slippery bastard – this is the best chance we've got to convince him to testify for you. I'll be with you every step of the way." Castiel sighs, then squares his shoulders.

"All right. Let's go." He winces as he looks up at the neon sign that throbs above the door. "But I'm seventeen, Dean, they won't let me into a strip club." Dean winks.

"Just follow my lead." Cas only just glimpses the bill Dean slips into the bouncers' hand, and then they're through and into the dark and the heat and the noise of the room beyond. Men writhe on the stages scattered around the room; but what surprises Cas is the sheer number of people packed in between the walls. "Drink? It'll calm you down." Dean practically shouts in Cas' ear, and Castiel shakes his head. "Hey, there's Crowley," Dean adds, then tows Castiel towards the main stage just as a bass voice growls over the sound system.

"Ladies and gentlemen, on our main stage, please welcome... _the Candyman_!" A wave of applause and whistles deafens Cas; he and Dean are shoved closer by the people crowding around. He watches as the music starts to pump, something fast and harsh, and Castiel's mouth drops open in shock as Gabriel saunters out from behind a curtain. His brother looks like he's revelling in the attention; he winks and nods around at the spectators as he moves to the beat in a pair of tiny shorts and a skin-tight white tee decorated with a picture of a chocolate bar.

Women scream as Cas' brother peels off the shirt and tosses it into the crowd; Castiel can feel the blush that is heating his face as Gabriel begins to dance for real, muscles rippling in the overhead lights. The screams come again as the shorts are removed, revealing a tiny g-string. Gabriel works the edge of the stage, money being stuffed into the slip of nothing that girds his hips – women try to grab him, but somehow Gabriel just isn't there, fending them off with a smile and a saucy wink. Then he reaches the part of the stage Dean and Cas are pressed against, and for the barest of moments bright blue eyes meet green-gold. Gabriel smiles, for real this time, and Castiel has to smile back before his older brother turns away, continuing his show. An endless ten minutes later Gabriel is disappearing behind the curtain, a stack of money in one hand as he waves with the other.

As another dancer replaces him, Dean lets out a low whistle that Cas just manages to hear. "Wow. Just... Wow. He's really good." Castiel can only shake his head. Shock has rendered him speechless. A hand clamps down on his elbow, and he looks across to see a bouncer leaning uncomfortably close.

"You Castiel?" the man growls in Cas' ear. Cas nods. "Candy said you could come on back. Be grateful, he's really popular." Castiel and Dean are led through a tiny door that is half hidden in curtains, and when it closes behind them, most of the noise from the club is cut off. The bouncer jerks his thumb down the hallway. "At the end."

When they enter the small room, Gabriel is sprawled on a long couch, wiping his body down with a towel. He looks up, those gold-green eyes wary.

"Hey, bro," he says, nonchalant. "What brings you to this den of iniquity? And more to the point, who's your friend?"

"This... This is my boyfriend, Dean." At the word _boyfriend_, Gabriel's feet slide off the couch and he sits up, a frown on his face. "And I... Um..."

"Spit it out, Castiel," Gabriel says dryly.

"Could you please put some pants on first?" Cas asks, blushing furiously and looking everywhere but at his brother. Gabriel laughs, that carefree laugh Cas remembers so well.

"Why? Your _boyfriend_ is obviously enjoying the view."

"Dude," Dean says, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. "I enjoyed the show, but I'm a one man, uh, guy." Cas watches Dean grin. "So put on some clothes before Cas' head explodes." Gabriel laughs again.

"I like you," he says, before standing and crossing to a bag on the floor. He leans down, giving Dean and Cas a good view of his ass before pulling a pair of sweat pants out and donning them. "Happy now?"

"Thanks," Cas manages. Gabriel starts rubbing the sweat from his hair as he returns to the couch.

"So talk," he says. "I've only got twenty minutes before I'm back out there." Cas' mouth opens and closes for a moment. For the life of him, he can't think of what to say, how to start. Dean gives a impatient little growl.

"Cas needs your help."

"With what?" Gabriel asks lazily, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head.

"He got out. He got a lawyer."

"Ah. So that's who the nosy British bastard is. But what's that got to do with me?" Dean pushes away from the wall and moves forward.

"You have to testify for Cas', about what he went through in that family." Dean matches stares with Gabriel for a long moment.

"I _have_ to?" Gabriel shakes his head, smiling. "Dean-o, one of the good things about being away from that hell hole is that I don't _have_ to do anything." He shifts a little on the couch and his eyes swing to Cas. "How'd you manage it?" Castiel smiles a little and gestures to Dean.

"He... Well, he kinda just, ah, put his foot down and said I was staying with him."

"You put your foot down, huh? Are you my brother's top, then, Dean?"

"That's none of your damn business," Dean replies. "Look, we're not askin' for much-" Dean is cut off by Gabriel's bitter laugh.

"Not asking for much?" Gabriel laughs again, and Cas shivers at the pain in that sound. "You want me to go back, to face them, and you think you're not asking for much?" He shakes his head. "Look, little brother, I'm glad you got out, I really am. But there's no way in hell I'm going back there. End of story."

"So you're just going to hide, is that it?" Dean demands, voice full of scorn. "You're just gonna let those dicks get away with what they did. Your brother needs your help. You're a bastard, Gabe." In a flash, Gabriel is up from the couch and inches from Dean, menace in his gold-green eyes.

"Don't you dare presume to know who I am," he spits into Dean's face. "Don't you _dare_ think you know what I went through." Cas speaks before he thinks.

"Michael did it to you, too, didn't he?" Gabriel's eyes swing to Cas, who swallows, but holds firm. "Didn't he?" His brother turns away, not before Castiel can see his anguish.

"I never wanted..." Gabriel wraps his arms around himself. "I never wanted that to happen to you, to any of you. But I knew..."

"You knew if you didn't get out, he'd kill you," Cas whispers, and Gabriel bows his head. They stand in silence for a moment before Dean speaks.

"You know, the lawyer is going after damages." Gabriel snorts, but Dean continues. "Don't you want a little revenge?" Silence falls again, broken by someone hammering at the door.

"You're on in two minutes!" someone calls. Gabriel straightens his shoulders, then rubs one hand across his eyes. He finds pen and paper, then scribbles a cell number and holds it out to Castiel.

"Call me. I can't promise I can do it, but I'll... I'll try." Gabriel gives a crooked smile. "If only for the sake of making them pay."

"Thanks, brother. Just... Look after yourself, okay?" Gabriel's smile blooms into a grin.

"Always."


	13. Chapter 13

It's a special day, and Castiel knows it. He, Bobby and Sam have been planning it for a week and a half now; meeting in secret, speaking in whispers... Cas thinks he's never been so happy in his entire life to see the expression of shock on Dean's face when they leap up from behind the furniture and scream, "surprise!" and "happy birthday!" Dean starts laughing and shaking his head.

"So this is what all the secretive looks have been about," he growls. Sam runs to his older brother and gives him a hug before shoving a party hat at him and demanding he wear it. Bobby shakes Dean's hand, and Castiel is close enough to hear Dean ask, "Dad..?" Bobby shakes his head, to which Dean shrugs before he accepts a hug from Cas.

"Happy birthday," Castiel murmurs into Dean's ear.

"Come on," Sam shouts, grabbing Dean's hand and tugging him into Bobby's living room. "Open your presents!" Dean is suitably impressed by Sam's present of a subscription to one of his car magazines, and is floored by Bobby's gift of a new set of tools. He hooks an arm around Castiel's waist and draws him close.

"What'd you get me?" he asks, a lecherous smile on his face. Cas feels his face heating.

"It's in the kitchen," he replies. Dean turns to see Sam whip a dish towel off the gigantic cherry pie that sits in the middle of the kitchen table. They all laugh at the look on Dean's face.

"You made that?" Dean presses a kiss to Cas' temple. "Damn, Cas, that's just... awesome."

"Well, I thought you'd like it more than a cake," Castiel says, smiling.

"Damn straight!" Dean approaches the table and grins a wicked grin. "So what are the rest of you going to have?"

The evening passes in a happy blur for Castiel. They order pizza, eat a silly amount of junk food, then watch one of Dean's favourite action movies. Bobby gives Dean and Cas beer, and regales them all with tales of what Dean was like as a child, much to Dean's chagrin. Bobby has to put Sam to bed when he falls asleep at about one in the morning, then turns in himself. Castiel and Dean share a long look and a longer smile before retiring to the trailer, where Dean gets another surprise.

His trailer is now strewn with rose petals, for once the bed is made, and there are scented candles everywhere. Dean turns to Cas, a soft smile on his face. "You did this," he says. Castiel gives a little shrug as he pulls out a lighter and sets about lighting the candles.

"I thought you deserved a little romance," Cas says shyly. "As a thank you." Dean's smile turns wicked again.

"So you're my birthday present, then?"

"I... Yeah, I guess I am." Dean crawls up on to the bed and props himself up on the pillows.

"All mine," he muses, looking Cas up and down. "Will you do anything I want?" Cas meets those hazel eyes and smiles, feeling love and trust warm him.

"Anything." Dean rubs his hands together, his wicked smile unwavering.

"Happy birthday me. Strip." Cas' own smile widens as he unbuttons his shirt. "Slowly," Dean adds. "We've got all night, and I want to take my time with this." Castiel obeys, taking his time to push the shirt from his shoulders before he slides out of his jeans and briefs. Dean rises to his knees on the bed and beckons, and Cas moves to him. They share a hot kiss before Dean pushes him down so he's lying on his back amidst the rose petals. "Mine," Dean says softly, possessively. "All mine." Their lips meet again, but when Castiel lifts his arms to wrap them around Dean, the other man pulls back. "No. You're just going to lie there, and I'm going to do what I want to you. Do you trust me?"

There is no hesitation in Cas' reply. "Yes."

"Then keep still." Dean explores Castiel with his hands and lips and tongue, covering every inch of skin from neck to belly and leaving Cas whimpering in anticipation of Dean's mouth on his cock. Instead, Dean completely passes over Castiel's groin, moving on to kiss and lick and caress his thighs, then on down until Dean scrapes his teeth over the bump of Cas' ankle.

"Dean-!" Cas pants. "Please, I need-!"

"Shh," Dean murmurs, and Castiel can hear the pleasure and pride in his voice. "Roll over." Cas obeys once more, and Dean begins the exact same game with the back of his body, using hands and mouth to drive Castiel mad with pleasure until he's writhing against the bed and pleading for Dean to end it, to take him. Dean's fingers slide in between the cheeks of his ass, and Cas pushes back against that light and teasing touch. Then Dean's tongue follows his fingers, and Castiel gives a moan as Dean licks and sucks at that most delicate strip of skin. There's the familiar click of a cap, and then Dean slides one slick finger inside Cas, who bites down on his lip to muffle his scream of pleasure. "Don't," Dean whispers against his skin as he moves his finger in and out. "I want to hear you." It's like a dam has broken inside Castiel, he can't stop the moans and grunts and pleas that fall from his lips as Dean slowly fucks him with first one finger, then two, then three, but its not _enough_, and he whines in frustration, wanting Dean's cock inside instead.

"Please," he manages to beg. "Please!"

"Please what?" Dean asks softly, his fingers still moving in the same slow rhythm. "Please what?" Cas lifts his head from the bed enough to look along his body and meet those hazel eyes.

"Take me," he gasps. "Oh, god, please, just-!" His voice is stolen by a gasp of pleasure as Dean finds that spot inside and presses against it, and again Cas is reduced to helpless writhing.

"You want me to fuck you," Dean says, his hand never stopping. "You want me inside you."

"Yes! Oh, god, yes, Dean, fuck me!" A shudder runs along Castiel body as Dean gives a low, throaty chuckle.

"Happy birthday me," Dean repeats as his hands guide Cas to all fours on the bed. Another familiar noise, this one of a zipper being pulled down, before Cas feels the head of Dean's member press against his ass. Dean pushes forwards, slowly, his hands holding Castiel in place as he slides inside. He takes his time, steady and sure, and Cas is dizzy with the pleasure of it. Dean leans down, cradling Castiel with his body as his hips continue to thrust. "Let go," Dean whispers in Cas' ear before he presses a kiss to Castiel's neck. "Come for me." Those three words are enough to send Cas over the edge, and he bucks against Dean as he climaxes from those hands on his hips and those lips against his throat. Through the orgasm, Cas feels Dean thrust once, twice more before he stiffens and moans, his hot breath huffing past Cas' cheek.

They collapse together, Dean pulling Castiel onto his side and curling around him. Cas can feel the roughness of Dean's clothing between them, but right now that doesn't bother him – nothing possibly could right now.

"Happy birthday," Castiel manages finally, before falling asleep to the sound of Dean's laughter.

**Author's note**: Yeah, I know, haven't updated, blah blah blah. But I hope you enjoyed my penance of Destiel smut. -YN


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